


Love in the Time of Knitters

by koalabear77



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Iowa, meet cute, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 08:31:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17742518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalabear77/pseuds/koalabear77
Summary: When a woman spots someone vandalizing her town, she steps in to stop it. But she might have to rethink her definition of vandalism.So I went to the University of Iowa and they just had this writing contest that I basically tried to use to get me back into the swing of writing. It came out like a fanfic. So I figured, why not use this as an experiment to see how many otps I subconsciously wrote this to fit? Names and small details have been changed, but otherwise every chapter is the same fic just in different fandoms. Prompt was: 1,000 words or less, romantic comedy, ped mall, tape. The ped mall, if you haven't been to Iowa City, is a pedestrian-only area of downtown, and every year people go out and yarn bomb the trees for winter. It's like all these big colorful sweaters around all the trees there. I recently broke up with a girl, and this is kind of an ode to her. I went ahead and copied the original work in the last chapter for those who are curious.





	1. laura x carmilla (hollstein)

**Author's Note:**

> I also thought about adding clexa and wayhaught chapters and one for the thirteenth doctor and river song, but I thought it'd be too much of a stretch.

Laura was a knitter.

Well, she was a lot of things. (Doctor Who fan, grad student, 26 year-old woman, daughter of an overprotective dad, lesbian…) But at this time of year, the time where the wind picked up just slightly and her car windows were always frosted in the morning and the leaves on the ground crunched under her feet more loudly than usual, she felt more like a knitter than almost anything else. This time of year, this fall to winter time, was her time to shine. 

Because this was the time of the knitters.

And not just knitters. Crocheters, cross-stitchers, and macramérs flitted through the town, clothing the trees with their vibrant creations. During this season, Laura was as prolific in her knitting as any other artist around. Few things brought her as much joy in life as walking through the streets and spotting one of her own pieces adorning a nearby oak.

It wasn’t just joy, though; it was pride. She knew she was bringing beauty and life to the city during the dreary winter months in a way that was often overlooked. She and her fellow artists were painting their little corner of the world in extra color, if just in a small way. Even if it just made one person smile to see the trees wrapped up in sweaters as they shopped or strolled with a loved one, it still felt important.

So when she walked through those colorful winter trees one night and saw someone in a bomber jacket and beanie haphazardly looping string around a smaller trunk and holding it in place with _scotch tape_ , she may have overreacted.

Just a bit.

“WHAT?! In God’s name?! Do you think you’re doing to MY TOWN???”

The figure froze, string still tangled around one boot and hands stuck to the roll of tape. Laura stomped towards them with fists clenched and jaw grinding. As she approached, her voice lowered to a tense whisper as she struggled to keep her fury over this _vandal_ in check.

“How dare you. Do you have any idea how much work goes into putting these pieces together and displaying them throughout the city? Do you know how many hours these artists spend creating these works? And, what? You thought you’d pull a prank? Come down with some string and- and- tape and belittle everything those people work so hard for? We- _they_ put so much heart into it and I don’t- I’m sure they don’t appreciate being mocked like this.”

The dark figure turning around and revealing themselves absolutely did not cause Laura to stumble on her words at the end of her rant. It wasn’t as if brown eyes, pale skin, and red lips could throw her off balance. Laura had met plenty of pretty girls before without stuttering around them, and this one would be no different. She was a woman on a mission, and no infuriating smirk would keep her from accomplishing it, no matter how good it looked on the stranger.

“Well, aren’t you the little firecracker. What are you, the yarn police? Sorry, creampuff, didn’t realize this hobby was for accomplished artists only. That’s a little elitist of you, don’t you think? What if I was just starting out? Way to crush a girl’s dreams.”

Was that- Was she flirting? And why was she still smirking?

“I doubt I would have anything to do with your dreams.” Oh god, now she was flirting back. “Yarn! I mean yarn. In your dreams.” Maybe some police would be good right now. She needed the distraction.

“Well you’re half right.” Under normal circumstances, Laura probably would have flushed under the lingering gaze that accompanied those words. But these weren’t normal circumstances. “I don’t usually dream about yarn. But today I just had a burning desire to come throw some at plants. And really, who am I to say ‘no’ to inspiration?”

“Come on, you’ve had your fun. Can’t you just leave now?” Laura asked, defeated.

“Oh no, I’m just getting started.” She just winked! This stranger was winking at her now.

“Seriously, why are you doing this?” Laura was getting desperate for this interaction to be over. Never had someone gotten so thoroughly under her skin, and so quickly. 

She didn’t expect the woman to lose the playful smirk, and she definitely didn’t expect the blush she saw follow.

“Seriously?” The woman sighed. “The yarn was my niece’s. Daughter’s? I’m still confused on what to call it when your foster sister dies and you become guardian to her kid.” Laura hoped the brunette across from her was still too far away to hear the sharp gasp she couldn’t stop. Or see the tear pooling in her eye. “Anyway, Marie and I were down here earlier today because she wanted to make tree art too. Granted, neither of us knew what we were doing, but I didn’t have the heart to stop her. I was walking by tonight and saw it starting to fall down and blow away and the art store around the corner was out of yarn because of course everyone has bought theirs already and they only had rolls of tape and I just couldn’t bear it if Marie came by this week and saw all her hard work ruined.” She took a deep breath and continued, now quieter. “That girl doesn’t deserve anything else to be ruined for her.”

Laura wanted to say so many things. ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘That’s terrible.’ ‘I know Marie’s name, but yours is?’ _Inappropriate time for flirting, Laura._ Instead, she stepped forwards, took the woman’s hand in hers and said, “Maybe I can help.”

“You know your way around yarn, creampuff?”

Maybe it wasn’t an inappropriate time for flirting. 

The smirk was back, and Laura felt the brunette squeeze her hand. She matched it with her own excited smile and said, “I know a thing or two. After all, I am a knitter.”


	2. kara x lena (supercorp)

Kara was a knitter.

Well, she was a lot of things. (Adopted, grad student, 26 year-old woman, part-time superhero, badass bi…) But at this time of year, the time where the wind picked up just slightly and her car windows were always frosted in the morning and the leaves on the ground crunched under her feet more loudly than usual, she felt more like a knitter than almost anything else. This time of year, this fall to winter time, was her time to shine. 

Because this was the time of the knitters.

And not just knitters. Crocheters, cross-stitchers, and macramérs flitted through the town, clothing the trees with their vibrant creations. During this season, Kara was as prolific in her knitting as any other artist around. Few things brought her as much joy in life as walking through the streets and spotting one of her own pieces adorning a nearby oak.

It wasn’t just joy, though; it was pride. She knew she was bringing beauty and life to the city during the dreary winter months in a way that was often overlooked. She and her fellow artists were painting their little corner of the world in extra color, if just in a small way. Even if it just made one person smile to see the trees wrapped up in sweaters as they shopped or strolled with a loved one, it still felt important.

So when she walked through those colorful winter trees one night and saw someone in a bomber jacket and beanie haphazardly looping string around a smaller trunk and holding it in place with _scotch tape_ , she may have overreacted.

Just a bit.

“WHAT?! In God’s name?! Do you think you’re doing to MY TOWN???”

The figure froze, string still tangled around one boot and hands stuck to the roll of tape. Kara stomped towards them with fists clenched and jaw grinding. As she approached, her voice lowered to a tense whisper as she struggled to keep her fury over this _vandal_ in check.

“How dare you. Do you have any idea how much work goes into putting these pieces together and displaying them throughout the city? Do you know how many hours these artists spend creating these works? And, what? You thought you’d pull a prank? Come down with some string and- and- tape and belittle everything those people work so hard for? We- _they_ put so much heart into it and I don’t- I’m sure they don’t appreciate being mocked like this.”

The dark figure turning around and revealing themselves absolutely did not cause Kara to stumble on her words at the end of her rant. It wasn’t as if green eyes, pale skin, and red lips could throw her off balance. Kara had met plenty of pretty girls before without stuttering around them, and this one would be no different. She was a woman on a mission, and no infuriating smirk would keep her from accomplishing it, no matter how good it looked on the stranger.

“Well, aren’t you a firecracker. What are you, the yarn police? Sorry, darling, didn’t realize this hobby was for accomplished artists only. That’s a little elitist of you, don’t you think? What if I was just starting out? Way to crush a girl’s dreams.”

Was that- Was she flirting? And why was she still smirking?

“I doubt I would have anything to do with your dreams.” Oh god, now she was flirting back. “Yarn! I mean yarn. In your dreams.” Maybe some police would be good right now. She needed the distraction.

“Well you’re half right.” Under normal circumstances, Kara probably would have flushed under the lingering gaze that accompanied those words. But these weren’t normal circumstances. “I don’t usually dream about yarn. But today I just had a burning desire to come throw some at plants. And really, who am I to say ‘no’ to inspiration?”

“Come on, you’ve had your fun. Can’t you just leave now?” Kara asked, defeated.

“Oh no, I’m just getting started.” She just winked! This stranger was winking at her now.

“Seriously, why are you doing this?” Kara was getting desperate for this interaction to be over. Never had someone gotten so thoroughly under her skin, and so quickly. 

She didn’t expect the woman to lose the playful smirk, and she definitely didn’t expect the blush she saw follow.

“Seriously?” The woman sighed. “The yarn was my niece’s. Daughter’s? I’m still confused on what to call it when your best friend who's basically a sister dies and you become guardian to her kid.” Kara hoped the brunette across from her was still too far away to hear the sharp gasp she couldn’t stop. Or see the tear pooling in her eye. “Anyway, Ruby and I were down here earlier today because she wanted to make tree art too. Granted, neither of us knew what we were doing, but I didn’t have the heart to stop her. I was walking by tonight and saw it starting to fall down and blow away and the art store around the corner was out of yarn because of course everyone has bought theirs already and they only had rolls of tape and I just couldn’t bear it if Ruby came by this week and saw all her hard work ruined.” She took a deep breath and continued, now quieter. “That girl doesn’t deserve anything else to be ruined for her.”

Kara wanted to say so many things. ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘That’s terrible.’ ‘I know Ruby’s name, but yours is?’ _Inappropriate time for flirting, Kara._ Instead, she stepped forwards, took the woman’s hand in hers and said, “Maybe I can help.”

“You know your way around yarn, darling?”

Maybe it wasn’t an inappropriate time for flirting. 

The smirk was back, and Kara felt the brunette squeeze her hand. She matched it with her own excited smile and said, “I know a thing or two. After all, I am a knitter.”


	3. ava x sara (avalance)

Ava was a knitter.

Well, she was a lot of things. (Adopted, grad student, 26 year-old woman, martial artist, lexbian…) But at this time of year, the time where the wind picked up just slightly and her car windows were always frosted in the morning and the leaves on the ground crunched under her feet more loudly than usual, she felt more like a knitter than almost anything else. This time of year, this fall to winter time, was her time to shine. 

Because this was the time of the knitters.

And not just knitters. Crocheters, cross-stitchers, and macramérs flitted through the town, clothing the trees with their vibrant creations. During this season, Ava was as prolific in her knitting as any other artist around. Few things brought her as much joy in life as walking through the streets and spotting one of her own pieces adorning a nearby oak.

It wasn’t just joy, though; it was pride. She knew she was bringing beauty and life to the city during the dreary winter months in a way that was often overlooked. She and her fellow artists were painting their little corner of the world in extra color, if just in a small way. Even if it just made one person smile to see the trees wrapped up in sweaters as they shopped or strolled with a loved one, it still felt important.

So when she walked through those colorful winter trees one night and saw someone in a bomber jacket and beanie haphazardly looping string around a smaller trunk and holding it in place with _scotch tape_ , she may have overreacted.

Just a bit.

“WHAT?! In God’s name?! Do you think you’re doing to MY TOWN???”

The figure froze, string still tangled around one boot and hands stuck to the roll of tape. Ava stomped towards them with fists clenched and jaw grinding. As she approached, her voice lowered to a tense whisper as she struggled to keep her fury over this _vandal_ in check.

“How dare you. Do you have any idea how much work goes into putting these pieces together and displaying them throughout the city? Do you know how many hours these artists spend creating these works? And, what? You thought you’d pull a prank? Come down with some string and- and- tape and belittle everything those people work so hard for? We- _they_ put so much heart into it and I don’t- I’m sure they don’t appreciate being mocked like this.”

The dark figure turning around and revealing themselves absolutely did not cause Ava to stumble on her words at the end of her rant. It wasn’t as if blue eyes, pale skin, and pink lips could throw her off balance. Ava had met plenty of pretty girls before without stuttering around them, and this one would be no different. She was a woman on a mission, and no infuriating smirk would keep her from accomplishing it, no matter how good it looked on the stranger.

“Well, aren’t you a firecracker. What are you, the yarn police? Sorry, babe, didn’t realize this hobby was for accomplished artists only. That’s a little elitist of you, don’t you think? What if I was just starting out? Way to crush a girl’s dreams.”

Was that- Was she flirting? And why was she still smirking?

“I doubt I would have anything to do with your dreams.” Oh god, now she was flirting back. “Yarn! I mean yarn. In your dreams.” Maybe some police would be good right now. She needed the distraction.

“Well you’re half right.” Under normal circumstances, Ava probably would have flushed under the lingering gaze that accompanied those words. But these weren’t normal circumstances. “I don’t usually dream about yarn. But today I just had a burning desire to come throw some at plants. And really, who am I to say ‘no’ to inspiration?”

“Come on, you’ve had your fun. Can’t you just leave now?” Ava asked, defeated.

“Oh no, I’m just getting started.” She just winked! This stranger was winking at her now.

“Seriously, why are you doing this?” Ava was getting desperate for this interaction to be over. Never had someone gotten so thoroughly under her skin, and so quickly. 

She didn’t expect the woman to lose the playful smirk, and she definitely didn’t expect the blush she saw follow.

“Seriously?” The woman sighed. “The yarn was my niece’s. Daughter’s? I’m still confused on what to call it when your sister dies and you become guardian to her kid.” Ava hoped the blonde across from her was still too far away to hear the sharp gasp she couldn’t stop. Or see the tear pooling in her eye. “Anyway, Lucy and I were down here earlier today because she wanted to make tree art too. Granted, neither of us knew what we were doing, but I didn’t have the heart to stop her. I was walking by tonight and saw it starting to fall down and blow away and the art store around the corner was out of yarn because of course everyone has bought theirs already and they only had rolls of tape and I just couldn’t bear it if Lucy came by this week and saw all her hard work ruined.” She took a deep breath and continued, now quieter. “That girl doesn’t deserve anything else to be ruined for her.”

Ava wanted to say so many things. ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘That’s terrible.’ ‘I know Lucy’s name, but yours is?’ _Inappropriate time for flirting, Ava._ Instead, she stepped forwards, took the woman’s hand in hers and said, “Maybe I can help.”

“You know your way around yarn, darling?”

Maybe it wasn’t an inappropriate time for flirting. 

The smirk was back, and Ava felt the other blonde squeeze her hand. She matched it with her own excited smile and said, “I know a thing or two. After all, I am a knitter.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here's the original!

Lacey was a knitter.

Well, she was a lot of things. Cat mom, grad student, 26 year-old woman, aunt to three nephews, lesbian…) But at this time of year, the time where the wind picked up just slightly and her car windows were always frosted in the morning and the leaves on the ground crunched under her feet more loudly than usual, she felt more like a knitter than almost anything else. This time of year, this fall to winter time, was her time to shine. 

Because this was the time of the knitters.

And not just knitters. Crocheters, cross-stitchers, and macramérs flitted through the town, clothing the trees with their vibrant creations. During this season, Lacey was as prolific in her knitting as any other artist around. Few things brought her as much joy in life as walking through the streets and spotting one of her own pieces adorning a nearby oak.

It wasn’t just joy, though; it was pride. She knew she was bringing beauty and life to the city during the dreary winter months in a way that was often overlooked. She and her fellow artists were painting their little corner of the world in extra color, if just in a small way. Even if it just made one person smile to see the trees wrapped up in sweaters as they shopped or strolled with a loved one, it still felt important.

So when she walked through those colorful winter trees one night and saw someone in a bomber jacket and beanie haphazardly looping string around a smaller trunk and holding it in place with _scotch tape_ , she may have overreacted.

Just a bit.

“WHAT?! In God’s name?! Do you think you’re doing to MY TOWN???”

The figure froze, string still tangled around one boot and hands stuck to the roll of tape. Lacey stomped towards them with fists clenched and jaw grinding. As she approached, her voice lowered to a tense whisper as she struggled to keep her fury over this _vandal_ in check.

“How dare you. Do you have any idea how much work goes into putting these pieces together and displaying them throughout the city? Do you know how many hours these artists spend creating these works? And, what? You thought you’d pull a prank? Come down with some string and- and- tape and belittle everything those people work so hard for? We- _they_ put so much heart into it and I don’t- I’m sure they don’t appreciate being mocked like this.”

The dark figure turning around and revealing themselves absolutely did not cause Lacey to stumble on her words at the end of her rant. It wasn’t as if brown eyes, pale skin, and pink lips could throw her off balance. Lacey had met plenty of pretty girls before without stuttering around them, and this one would be no different. She was a woman on a mission, and no infuriating smirk would keep her from accomplishing it, no matter how good it looked on the stranger.

“Well, aren’t you the little firecracker. What are you, the yarn police? Sorry, cutie, didn’t realize this hobby was for accomplished artists only. That’s a little elitist of you, don’t you think? What if I was just starting out? Way to crush a girl’s dreams.”

Was that- Was she flirting? And why was she still smirking?

“I doubt I would have anything to do with your dreams.” Oh god, now she was flirting back. “Yarn! I mean yarn. In your dreams.” Maybe some police would be good right now. She needed the distraction.

“Well you’re half right.” Under normal circumstances, Lacey probably would have flushed under the lingering gaze that accompanied those words. But these weren’t normal circumstances. “I don’t usually dream about yarn. But today I just had a burning desire to come throw some at plants. And really, who am I to say ‘no’ to inspiration?”

“Come on, you’ve had your fun. Can’t you just leave now?” Lacey asked, defeated.

“Oh no, I’m just getting started.” She just winked! This stranger was winking at her now.

“Seriously, why are you doing this?” Lacey was getting desperate for this interaction to be over. Never had someone gotten so thoroughly under her skin, and so quickly. 

She didn’t expect the woman to lose the playful smirk, and she definitely didn’t expect the blush she saw follow.

“Seriously?” The woman sighed. “The yarn was my niece’s. Daughter’s? I’m still confused on what to call it when your sister dies and you become guardian to her kid.” Lacey hoped the brunette across from her was still too far away to hear the sharp gasp she couldn’t stop. Or see the tear pooling in her eye. “Anyway, Rae and I were down here earlier today because she wanted to make tree art too. Granted, neither of us knew what we were doing, but I didn’t have the heart to stop her. I was walking by tonight and saw it starting to fall down and blow away and the art store around the corner was out of yarn because of course everyone has bought theirs already and they only had rolls of tape and I just couldn’t bear it if Rae came by this week and saw all her hard work ruined.” She took a deep breath and continued, now quieter. “That girl doesn’t deserve anything else to be ruined for her.”

Lacey wanted to say so many things. ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘That’s terrible.’ ‘I know Rae’s name, but yours is?’ _Inappropriate time for flirting, Lacey._ Instead, she stepped forwards, took the woman’s hand in hers and said, “Maybe I can help.”

“You know your way around yarn, cutie?”

Maybe it wasn’t an inappropriate time for flirting. 

The smirk was back, and Lacey felt the brunette squeeze her hand. She matched it with her own excited smile and said, “I know a thing or two. After all, I am a knitter.”


End file.
